Jumbled
by demondreaming
Summary: How I feel is all jumbled and twisted inside me, and my hands are too clumsy and numb to pick it apart. Valentine's Day one-shot. Cam. Sam's POV.


**Disclaimer: iCarly is not owned by me, despite my gift of flowers and a song.**

Valentine's Day. It's one of my most hated holidays. It's not even a holiday. I mean, I love getting free gifts and shit, especially chocolate, but it's all so girly and sappy. And... and I never get anything. I mean, sure, I get chocolates, and flowers, but that's only so I won't beat kids up. It's fear-based, not love, and... for the most part, I'm okay with that. Valentine's Day has always meant nothing to me. It's just another day, except everything is pink and everyone is stupid. But all day, I've been watching Carly get Valentine's, from Freddie, from Gibby, from a dozen other boys, and they all give them to her with a smile, not a grimace like they do with me. She's so loved, and I'm so feared, and that's how it's meant to be. I just... sometimes I get jealous of all the love she has. Sometimes... sometimes I get jealous of them, that they can give her Valentine's and she'll smile at them. They can do that, they don't have a reputation like I do. She's... she's the only one I'd think about giving a Valentine to. She's the only one I really love, and sometimes... I don't think she realises, I think sometimes she forgets because of the stuff I do. The stupid stuff that hurts her, that makes her annoyed at me. It's like my brain doesn't work right, like I do stuff before my brain even realises what it's doing, and by then, it's too late and she's looking at me with that hurt look, like she can't understand me. And I can't understand me either.

And it's like, I want to open up, I want to let her know how much she really does mean to me, because she's... she's easily the best thing in my life, but I just can't. There's a barrier behind my tongue that stops the words everytime, and all my hands can do is grasp and make gestures of what I want to say, like they're trying to pull the words out. And... it's not me, I don't share, even with Carly, I don't... I don't share everything. This is the one day where my reputation wouldn't really matter, it's the one day where I can say I love her and have it be casual, have it be met with a smile and not a concerned frown. She only thinks I love her when something's wrong. But I don't want what I give her, what I say to her to be the same as what everyone else is doing, I want it to stand out and mean more, just because it's me. I don't want her to notice me, but at the same time, I want her to know that... that I do care about her, all the time, every day, every minute. So I'm stuck. I don't want to be a cliché, but I don't want to stand out.

I pick at one of the boxes of chocolate I've gotten, watching her. She smiles, and it's so warm, and she takes each Valentine like it means something, like all the random boys aren't random to her. Like she cares. And they don't leave after they give it to her, they hang around and talk, and everyone's smiling. When they give them to me, there's fear in their eyes, shaking hands and trembling voices, hoping it'll be enough. And I'll admit, I get a kick out of it. It's nice to have that power, to feel like I'm in control, but sometimes I wish I was like her, that I could go over there and join them and smile and laugh. I know that as soon as I do, there'll be silence, and sideways look, feet shifting, and I couldn't be like them anyway. Carly's the only one who makes me want to smile and laugh. Even if I tried with them, they'd just bug me and things would be the same. I can't help who I am, it just seems like who I am is different around her. Maybe Carly doesn't even like Sam, maybe she just likes the Sam I am around her, Carly's Sam.

It's not important. This whole day just pisses me off. I love her every day, and just because these jags show it, it means more? Just because they buy her some cheap box of chocolates, or some wilting bunch of flowers means they care more?

I'm so scared of losing her. I'm scared to even admit _how_ scared I am. I don't... I don't get scared. It's not who I am. Every time I do something stupid, I'm always scared that's the end, that that'll be the final straw, because Carly and I are different, so different, and I never know how she feels. What's hilarious to me makes her grimace, and what she thinks is adorable just makes me want to puke. Maybe I care too much. It feels like too much. I shouldn't be standing by my locker, watching her, and being jealous of every smile she gives to those boys, every word she says to them. I shouldn't want to give her a Valentine, I shouldn't want to be the same as those boys, pandering for her attention. She shouldn't make me feel the way I'm supposed to feel about boys. She shouldn't have me wishing I was one, just so I'd have a chance. A chance to... to show her how I feel. I'm not even sure how I feel, really. It's all jumbled and twisted, and my fingers are too numb and clumsy to pick it apart. All I know is that it isn't what it was. It's something else, something more, something that keeps me standing here, watching her, just watching, too scared to join in and get her attention, to draw her focus from all the boys. Because what if I failed? What if she didn't pay attention to me? What if when she looked at me, her eyes changed and... it was less?

I'm still quiet when I get back to her apartment after school, hanging back while she chats to Freddie, pack jammed full of pink hearts and bouquets. I'm almost out of chocolates. It's this day, it does something to me. All these bright colours and songs and streamers, and hearts everywhere proclaiming their love so easily, and I... I just can't. Why is it so easy for them and so hard for me? It's like they're just shouting into the dark, eyes screwed shut, and they don't even care. But I guess that's 'cause it's all fake. The only love going on here is between me and my chocolates.

I kick my feet up on Carly's sofa, eyes trained on Girly Cow. It's a Valentine's Day special, naturally, and I pick at the box of chocolates resting on my chest resignedly. I can't escape all this love, it seems. Even the chocolate's in the shape of hearts, but at least I can eat them, at least I can keep them inside.

"Hey." A hand taps my propped up feet, and I tear my eyes away from the cartoon, Carly looming over me. "What's with you?"

"Nothing."

Carly furrows her eyebrows, chocolate eyes suspicious. Ugh, everything's chocolate now. "You've been quiet all day." Her eyes flick away, over the computer where Freddie's sitting. "Are you gonna do something to Freddie?"

I sit up a little. I kind of wish I had been planning something. It would've been hilarious, and it might've distracted me. "No, I'm not." Even though I'm really not, the words still surprise me when they come out. I'm not used to not doing things to Freddie.

It was so easy to observe her before, from a distance, but now that's she's close I can't notice a thing. It's just bits and pieces that overwhelm me, and it's her smell, strawberry, and the shape of her lips, and the gloss of her hair, and the way her hands fold in her lap when she sits, the way her shirt pulls up a little when she does, and a thread is unravelled from that jumbled up mess. And I know that with every thread, it could just fall apart, and I'm not quite sure what's inside there, and I'm not sure I want it to happen in front of her. And expressions pass over her face like a breeze, rippling the skin, wrinkling it, making her eyebrows dip and her lips twist. "Sam... is that your last box of chocolates?"

I pick out the final one, turning it between my thumb and index finger. "I guess it is. You want my heart?"

Carly raises an eyebrow at me. "It's melted."

"Only around the edges, it's still good."

She shakes her head, pink lips tightening, and I pop it in my mouth. The only thing that'll come out of this Valentine's is stomachache, but it's still better than heartache.

"How could you eat all of them? Aren't you sick?"

I shake my head, the empty box sliding off my chest onto the floor, fingers patting my stomach appreciatively. "Full of love, Carls." I grin at her, a smile twitching onto her face in return, her head shaking in disbelief. She stands from where she's sitting on the coffee table, a sharp rap at the door, but before she can reach it, it bursts open, Mrs. Benson storming in.

"Freddie!I told you to check in with me as _soon_ as you got home, young man. You know Valentine's Day is dangerous for a boy like you. All those... _amorous_ girls." She shudders, and I suppress one myself. Not that Freddie didn't get his share of Valentine's. Some girls are just... delusional. Even brain-dead people need love, I guess. "How many girls have touched you today Freddie?" Mrs. Benson directs her glare to both me and Carly. I look at her flatly. I wouldn't touch that boy with a ten foot pole.

"Mom... they just... it's Valentine's... Mom," Freddie protests, Mrs. Benson grabbing his arm gingerly and dragging him over to the door.

"Let's get you home and disinfected, Mister."

She propels him out, hands pressed against his shoulderblades, and she manhandles better than Freddie 'mans' anything. Carly closes the door behind them slowly, an amused expression on her face. She turns to me. "How much do you wanna bet Mrs. Benson has a Valentine's present for him?"

I swing my legs off the sofa, grinning. "How much do you wanna bet it's sterile?"

Carly laughs, sitting next to me, and suddenly, it's too close. She always sits too close, and I always sit too close, and it was never too close before. And it's tooclose, _tooclose_, and her skin is so near to mine, the air's just like a layer of clothing. I can still sense her, the hairs on my arm reaching out to hers, just to make contact, and all of a sudden, I am feeling sick. All these hearts inside me just melting and mixing together. My heart starts to thud slowly, heavily, and it's pulsing through my limbs, shaking my bones, and I pull them close to me to hide it. And my fingertips can feel the denim of her jeans, the cotton of her pink top, and they itch to touch, not just dream.

Carly licks her lips, tongue flicking out to run over the plump, pink flesh, and her eyes are running over me like hands, poking and prodding. "You got a lot of Valentine's today."

I nod. "So did you."

Carly nods too, and the air, the layer that was between us thickens like a sheet, draped over her and showing nothing but the outline. Draped over me and making it hard to breathe. "So did you..." She starts hesitantly, fingers crawling over themselves like they want to ask, and she's trying to calm them. "Did you get any you... liked?" Her eyes flick to mine, dark strikes in the coffee like exclamation marks, and they make the question so much more than it is. And I wonder if my eyes are striking back, if they're beating through this sheet and asking the same question. But my lips follow anyway.

"Nope. All nubs... what about you? Did you...?" I know that if I finished, the words would come out choked and wrong, and be angry and pleading and too much. And this jumbled mass is close to bursting, Carly's hands clawing it apart, pulling the threads loose and pulling others so tight.

She shakes her head, a lock of glossy, brunette hair escaping from behind her ear, and it's something she can hide behind, something that cuts her in two, and each side is telling me something different. I wish I'd done something, given her a Valentine so I could ask her the same question and see if her answer would be different, if she'd nod this time, or maybe if she'd given me one I could nod, and it would be easy, just one little motion that shouted as loud as all the hearts, all the flowers. And I want... I want... I want. I want to give her my heart, but she already owns it, and it's stupid, it's cheesy, but it never beats faster then when she's there. It knows it's purpose.

Carly twists her mouth, eyes from under her lashes glancing at me, and then she's rifling through the pockets of her jeans, her hand coming out closed, fist clenched around something. She takes my wrist, turning my hand palm up, and her grip is so light but it pins me in place, like she could break my bones with a squeeze, her touch cutting straight through flesh. Her clenched fist presses against my palm, unfurling, and cold slithers onto my hand, slipping soft. She takes her hand away, releasing my wrist, and I examine the pooled silver in my hand. It's a thin chain, links almost invisible, writhing over half a heart, and it's the same friendship necklace I've seen on a dozen girls, but Carly's name is shining there, pressed into the metal, and that makes is precious. I look up at Carly, and she's running a finger under her collar, pulling out an identical necklace, a fragile smile on her face. "So we'll always have a piece of each other." And that smile could break so easily, could shatter, and I wonder if maybe she has a jumble inside of her too, and maybe our threads are joined together. I can see where the hearts fit together, where they heal the crack, where we split, and I close my fingers over the chain, fingertips pressing into it, trying to imprint her name in my skin.

"Carls..." And I can see where we fit together, and it's perfect. I lean forward, breath catching, and I match my lips to hers, and they fit so well, and there's no gaps between us and we're whole. Carly's eyes flicker shut, and mine don't need to be open to know. I can feel that she's there and I don't need to see. Her lips are so soft, and the taste of coconut floods my mouth, and my lips are moving like I'm finally saying the words I couldn't say, like I'm whispering them to her lips, and they come out more pure than I could ever speak them. And Carly's lips are whispering secrets to mine, and they fill me, slip into my heart, and weigh it down.

It's like she's been waiting, like she's been watching me too, and maybe her eyes followed me when mine strayed, and maybe she could see what I couldn't say, and what she couldn't either, until we found a day where it was okay, and you didn't need to speak. It was about letting something in, and not letting something out. And that jumbled mess, those tangled threads have collapsed, and they're entwined in hers, tying us together. She gave me half a silver heart, and I gave her half of mine, but joined together, they fit so well. I can taste her on my tongue, and she's better than all the chocolate, smells better than all the flowers, says more than all the cards, and Valentine's Day doesn't feel so stupid anymore.

**A/N: Dedicated to those of us who are alone, and who read fanfiction. Pity those who do not, for they have nothing.**

**And please do review, it means ever so much. It'll be like all the candy and flowers in the world, but in text and saying something else entirely. Still nice, though.**


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